


Sweetheart?

by roses_and_thorns3



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Brief display of Izzy's nerd side, Canon Compliant, Established Clace, I'm not very good at tags, Oneshot, Season 3 Opening, The shadowsquad being smol, basically what I think would be a fun and cute way to open s3, sans Simon, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roses_and_thorns3/pseuds/roses_and_thorns3
Summary: This is what I'd imagine as a perfect way to open the third season. Heavy on the squad goals, some Malec and Clace intimacy. Includes details from the Comic Con trailer as well as mentions to the finale (Although I made up a few details, obviously, since the finale hasn't aired yet).





	Sweetheart?

The demon was  _ hungry _ . 

 

Perhaps it was pure lack of an intelligent mind that reduced him to following a girl home late at night. Perhaps he’d been driven insane by starvation. Either way the only thoughts that had any ounce of traction in his brain were  _ girl flesh eat to eat to eat _ . 

It didn’t matter, he supposed. This girl would be nothing more than chewed pieces when he was finished anyway. And  _ then  _ his hunger would finally be sated. 

For now. 

~

Clary Fray had come to enjoy the nights out in the city. Cold, clean (somewhat, as clean as can be managed in New York City) air to breathe when the Institute got too… artificial. She supposed she’d come to enjoy the ceremony of it, as well. Suiting up as soon as the mission briefing was over, getting swept up in the quickness of it, the ritualism of it. Stele goes here, holster clasps here. The comfort of the air against her neck, the jacket around her shoulders. She felt faintly like a superhero every time she went out. 

 

This was the hunt. And she planned on going home with a new kill. 

~

The girl the demon followed smelled like heaven. 

 

This would not do. He needed to remember not to go so long without food, it made him stupid. Oh, but she smelled  _ so  _ delicious, no. Focus. This was not for enjoyment. This was sustenance. 

The demon was impressed with his own mental progressions. 

Quite the peculiar outfit she was wearing. A leather jacket that didn’t quite look like leather. Of course, the demon had no knowledge of such words, only memories of mundanes on the streets with varying items of clothing. There was something odd about this one.

 

A peculiar belt around her waist as well. Wrapped around the waist  _ and  _ bunched around one thigh. Odd, and… not unfamiliar. The demon still could not place the familiarity of it, he really was hungry, and her  _ scent _ . 

No more stalking. The girl had turned a corner into an alleyway, a useful but sometimes treacherous shortcut into the more populated parts of the city. It was time to eat. 

 

The demon stepped forward. The girl turned. The knowing glint in her eyes immediately awoke the demon’s sluggish mind, and he then regretted every decision that had brought him to this point. The girl was Nephilim. And he was probably going to die.

~

The demon was unimpressive. Oversized and slumped low to the ground, it sort of looked like the oddly alive-looking globs of trash pulled out of the Hudson every once in awhile. 

 

Clary wrinkled her nose, “Gross.” 

The action was mere distraction, keeping the demon’s...six(?) eyes on her face as her hand came to rest on the hilt of her seraph blade. It was in her palm and humming to life within a heartbeat. 

The demon looked tired. Like a drunken man after a too-long night at the bar. He was also the one responsible for the string of mangled bodies that had appeared on the Institute’s radar in the past week.    
  


This got Clary’s thoughts in order fairly quickly. She launched into the air, Agility and Strength runes propelling her forward to meet the demon’s sad attempt at a lunge with a mighty slice of her blade (courtesy of three weeks in the training room with Jace, the forever pretentious fan of unnecessary leaping). The resulting spurt of viscous fluid on her boots made her glad they weren’t her nice ones. She landed on the asphalt with a thump, slashing open what seemed to be the demon’s chest (it was hard to say, the demon really did look like condensed gelatin).

 

Using her small form to her advantage (Something Alec teasingly helped her come to appreciate), she dropped to the ground and swept her legs beneath the demon’s feet(?), knocking its gelatinous form to the asphalt, and immediately resumed her stance, plunging her sword into his face. Ichor exploded, staining her jacket and her chin. The resulting effect was decently badass.

Clary wiped her seraph blade clean with a cloth from her pocket. Somewhat dramatically, she dropped it on the demon’s slowly disintegrating face. Clary sighed contentedly. She supposed she couldn’t resist the sense of triumph that came with the nightly missions. She was doing it. She was a Shadowhunter, and now she finally was starting to feel like one.

Clary’s skin prickled as she became aware of something behind her.

 

Many somethings. Crawling. Hair standing on end, Clary turned to see at least a dozen vaguely scorpion-like  _ things  _ scuttling towards her (Shax demons, from the looks of them), anger written clearly on their little faces. Or maybe that was just how they looked. Either way,  _ fuck _ . 

Okay, not quite a full Shadowhunter just yet. 

Clary readied her seraph blade. Got into fighting stance (She still hated this phrase. Alec had used it once, and Simon had never shut up about it). Where had they even  _ come  _ from? Clary’s eyes scanned behind them for any glamoured entrance. There was none that she could see from this angle, and she was about to have even less space to move  _ shit they’re close _ \--

 

The seraph blade sang, light glinting off its surface as Clary swung it in an arc around herself, slicing the heads off of three Shax demons headed straight for her. She kicked another one into the brick wall to her left, shoved her sword into another’s neck. Another lunged straight toward her. She punched it square in the face, earning her several tooth marks on her knuckles. There were too many. Clary’s seraph sword glowed brighter as she slashed, and cut, cut and stabbed. She spun and twirled and kicked and swung until she could no longer separate the forms of her attackers, until her vision was red-tinged and the only thought in her mind was  _ kill kill kill _ . 

 

She fought. Like Jace taught her. Like Isabelle taught her. Like her instincts goaded her to until there was only two left. Grinning, she cut off both of their heads in one swoop. She was covered in ichor and the runes visible on her cleavage had faded in her adrenaline-fueled slaughter, but she no longer cared.  _ This  _ is what she truly enjoyed. The sense of  _ rightness  _ singing in her blood, the sharpness to her eyes and ears. She wondered distantly how she had made it in the mundane world with Magnus’ repeated spellcasting numbing her angelic qualities into non-existence. This was  _ amazing _ . 

 

“I would have helped, but it seems to me like you’ve got it covered.” Jace said from behind her. He sported cuts and scrapes of his own, demon ichor splattered on his dark pants. He grinned at her, pride clearly shining in his eyes as he cleaned his blade with a cloth like the one she had thrown on the jelly-demon’s face. 

 

Clary smiled back, “I have to admit. That was pretty fun.” Jace laughed in response, standing from his pose against the wall.

“See? And you said there was nothing enjoyable about being a Shadowhunter.” He stood in front of her now, and promptly tangled his fingers in her ruffled hair as they kissed. Clary hummed into it, a welcome grounding after the intensity of the skirmish. How long had it been since it had started? Minutes? An hour? She supposed it didn’t matter. After a few more moments, they pulled away, eyes still shining softly. 

“Where are the others?” Clary inquired, before they were suddenly interrupted by the dropping of a corpse from the building to their left. Clary jumped out of Jace’s arms in shock, Jace whirling with her to face the humped figure on the ground. 

 

The body was immediately joined by the  _ thump  _ of Isabelle Lightwood’s boots against the asphalt, her whip a ribbon of golden-silver behind her as she landed. It was clear now that the body was demonic in form, and if the ichor staining her whip was any indication, she had just had a helluva lot of fun killing it. She grinned at the both of them.

“At the fun part already, huh?” She laughed and punched Jace’s shoulder lightly. There were wounds already closing on her chest, a faded  _ iratze _ on her shoulder. 

 

They all took a moment to revel in the rush of murdering things before setting out to find Magnus and Alec. 

It had been two months since all hell had broken loose and Clary’s psycho brother had killed Max, the youngest Lightwood. His absence left a visible weight on all of them, but Isabelle most of all. Clary worried about her. There had been many a tearful night in the past months when Isabelle couldn’t stand being alone at night and climbed into bed alongside Clary. She obliged without question. Isabelle was her best friend, and if sleeping next to someone close to her would help the healing process, she was more than happy to help. 

 

Clary, on the other hand, eased her own nightmares with training. She sported decent muscles along her arms now, and her figure was a study in runic imagery. Burning energy had proven to be the key to releasing Clary’s anger. All of that pent up  _ hatred  _ for the brother she’d once sympathized with. The brother who had killed Max. The brother who had killed Jace. Had killed countless others, and for what? She mourned silently for the brother that could have been if Valentine was a different father. Cried behind closed doors. It was no longer something she felt like sharing. Not after Jocelyn. Not after Jace. Loss was a frequent thing in Clary’s life, and she’d come to accept it. 

 

She couldn’t say for sure how Alec was doing. He was hurting, that much was clear. She never asked Jace about what he felt through their  _ parabatai  _ bond, it was never her place. But she knew he had Magnus to help him heal. He basically lived at Magnus’ penthouse now. He was no longer able to stand living in the Institute anymore, and understandably so, Clary struggled enough herself. He had forfeited his role as Institute head to Jace and packed his bags, a note saying he wasn’t sure if he’d ever live at the Institute again. It had been a bad day, for Alec and Jace both. Clary spent the night in Jace’s room that night, kissing away the cold reminder of what it was like to be dead and suddenly alive again.

 

They all carried scars, physical and emotional. But that was their lives. And they’d accepted it. 

 

They found Magnus and Alec inspecting a rather large and ominous fissure in the brick wall of a condemned building. Clary’s extra angelic senses whispered that it was a portal. But not one like the ones she had the gift of creating. It was dark, and fathomless, and reeked with the smell of brimstone. A classic highway to Hell. 

“What the hell is  _ that _ ?” Jace said. 

Magnus stood crouched in front of it, his hands outstretched. Faint blue light flickered between his fingers. The line knitting his eyebrows together was worrying. 

“You okay, Magnus?” Clary asked carefully. 

He opened his eyes wide enough to wink at her before closing them again, “Just fine Biscuit. Trying to figure out what exactly our new friend here is all about.” 

 

Alec stood a few feet away, securing the perimeter, as always. This had become a bit of a system for the five of them (Sometimes four, Magnus tried to make it but occasionally had prior engagements). Clary couldn’t say it wasn’t comforting, this unit they’d created. She had a home, finally. Magnus’ words broke her from her reverie.

“Well, it’s a portal alright. Not a good one. I’ve no idea how it was opened. No one would even be able to-- well, except for me. Maybe. With difficulty.” 

 

“Ah, you could. I’d help, if you needed it.” Alec said in a tone of unusual sweetness. Magnus’ cheeks warmed at the vote of confidence, and momentarily turned to grin at his boyfriend. Clary smiled at the exchange. As Simon would say, she shipped it.

“Anyway, I think we can close it, but it’ll take a bit of doing. Biscuit?” Clary knew what this meant. Her abilities with runes had become much more of a phenomenon both in the Institute and in the Downworld. Her display of power two months ago was quite telling. She tried not to think about it. When she did, all she saw was blood and pain and death and Jace, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Cold chills ran down her arms. 

 

Shaking it off, she stepped forward. Magnus smiled supportively as she withdrew her stele, and touched it to the void they had all gathered in front of. 

 

It clearly didn’t open into the building the wall was attached to. The darkness of it wasn’t the type cast by shadows, it was  _ darkness _ , all its own. Clary touched her stele to it, and wanted immediately to recoil in disgust. It felt like bugs crawling through her mouth. Gritting her teeth, she began to draw. Ever since the chaos of two months ago, drawing runes had come as naturally as breathing to Clary. She practically counted Marks now. 

A simple rune of closing, juiced up with a little bit of angel blood. She drew a few warding off and locking runes alongside it just for good measure. She heard Magnus whispering behind her as he added his own magic to it.

 

Clary had grown to like working in conjunction with Magnus’ spells, as they had been practicing for the past month. His magic was a gentle yet electrical buoy to the sometimes uncontainable nature of her runes. Sometimes they simply exploded out of her fully formed. Magnus helped soothe this, an ironic parallel to his once quieting those abilities within her into death-sleep. The void was growing smaller now, its edges beginning to shine as their magic worked against it, closing, closing, closing--

 

It stopped shrinking, and swallowed her runes right into its shapeless mouth. Clary and Magnus frowned in sync.  _ That  _ was different.

“What the hell.” Magnus said flatly. Surprise was lost on him. Unless, of course, it came from Alec. 

 

They tried once more. A rune of closing, Magnus’ magic buffering her own, warding-off and locking--

Nothing. 

What the hell indeed. 

Isabelle stepped forward, a popsicle stick of unknown origin in her hand. Kneeling down, she swiped it across the edge of the fissure, the stick coming away black. Thick, oily liquid akin to demon ichor dripped off it. Izzy stared at it with the fascination of a child and his new toy. Safely zipping it in a plastic bag, she stood as if nothing had happened.

 

Clary smirked. Isabelle gazed back innocently, “What?”

Clary only shook her head and laughed quietly. Forensic pathologist nerd, Izzy was.

 

“I’m not sure what it is. I’ve never heard of a demon ripping open a void between their world and ours so  _ easily _ before. I’ll ward the place off, come back tomorrow with Clary. Sweetheart, I’d report this to the Clave.”

“Seriously?” Alec said in response. 

Magnus smirked, “Just this once, I think it’d be a good idea. We wouldn’t want any problems crawling out of this shithole.”

 

Alec looked surprised that Magnus had said  _ shithole _ . Clary, Izzy, and Jace all stood idly and tried to pretend Magnus hadn’t just called Alec  _ sweetheart _ . And that Alec hadn’t objected to it.  _ Couples _ . 

Jace rubbed Clary’s back absentmindedly, knowing she’d been tense back there. She hadn’t been sleeping well the past two weeks, often chased into wakefulness by visions full of burning cities and streets running with blood like water. It hadn’t been the first time she’d dreamt so violently.

 

Magnus stood up. Alec stepped forward immediately and wrapped his arm around him. Romance was obviously running rampant in the air tonight. 

“I suppose we should head back,” Jace said, likely attempting to break the love chain happening in front of him (of course he wasn’t exempt from it, with how gently and lovingly he was rubbing his girlfriend’s back). Alec nodded and bumped fists with Jace while Magnus began casting wards around the strange portal. Isabelle looked vaguely amused with the entire ordeal. 

“Alright, lovebirds, see ya tomorrow.” She hugged Alec and stood on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. His cheeks flashed red. Clary documented this for later teasing. 

 

When the wards had been completed, Magnus opened a portal of his own and waltzed into it, hand-in-hand with Alec, who waved at all of them before departing. Smiling faintly, Clary turned and began drawing a portal of her own. It was time to go home and sleep. She also craved a grilled cheese. 

 

“ _ Sweetheart _ ?” Jace said. 

“I thought it was adorable.” Isabelle said. 

“Fifty bucks they’ll be married by the end of the year.” Clary said. 

Isabelle’s resounding squeal of excitement and Jace’s dumbstruck expression were enough to pull a deep laugh from Clary.

 

She was home. 

~

Hours after they left, the darkness that had stayed shrouded within the portal slowly began seeping outward, spilling from the fissure in the wall. Magnus’ wards flexed and buckled against it, clearly struggling against whatever it was. 

 

The wards disintegrated completely as the black liquid began forming the shape of a woman.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write an opening to S3 that was squad goals af and this happened. I don't even know. I hope you enjoyed. Comments very welcome. You can find me on Twitter at @sassyarcherboy.


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